


First Morning

by timelesshour



Series: Deep Down [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Professor Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 11:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15684834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timelesshour/pseuds/timelesshour
Summary: His hand twists in his side, he knows he shouldn't. He has hundreds of reasons as to why, but then he listens as Dean moves around in the apartment and closes his eyes tightly. Maybe just this once, its not like Dean has to.





	First Morning

Castiel wakes with a start eyes wide and panting. He didn't have a bad dream, at least he doesn't think so, but his heart is beating rapidly in his chest. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, trying to control his breathing.

He mechanically reaches with his left arm for his alarm clock, but all he feels is the wood of the bedside table. He frowns and searches blind for a few more seconds, mostly because there is nothing on the table which is strange, because there is always at least a stuck of books there, along with various other objects.

Then he opens his eyes and inhales sharply, remembering that he is not in fact in his room but-

 

_Dean_

 

He closes his eyes momentarily and wets his lips. He slowly turns to his right, as if scared to look, clenching the sheets with his hands. And sure enough, he is greeted with a freckled back and light brown hair.

He swallows, trying to stay calm. He can feel a headache forming and knows he needs coffee first and then, then he can think about everything else.

He gets out of bed slowly, he doesn't want to wake Dean and tries to find his clothes with the little light that comes in through the blinds. He finally finds his boxers and wrinkles his nose. There is no way he’s going to wear them.

He hears rustling coming from the bed and freezes. When he doesn't get any indication that Dean has waken, he spares him a glance and continues to search for something to wear.

He finds a pair of sweatpants on top of the dresser that smell like detergent and decides they will do for now and exits the room trying to find the bathroom.

Thankfully, it’s the first door he opens and breaths a sigh if relief. He feels a little relaxed now that he is in here alone. There is a reason why he doesn't stay the night, he doesn't know how to do this.

He splashes cold water on his face a few times, until he feels awake enough. He sees a bottle of mouthwash on the counter and thanks whoever is listening, before opening the bottle and filling the cup, putting the liquid in his mouth. He moves it around for as long as he can and spits it into the sink, rinsing it with water.

Then he raises his eyes and looks at himself in the mirror. His hair is a mess, more so than usual, he has a few hickeys in his neck and generally looks exactly how he feels; like a hurricane went through him and he liked it, but doesn't know how to act in the aftermath.

He reaches with his hand to touch his neck, but stops. A shiver runs up his spine thinking about last night. He shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts and wears the sweatpants.

He goes out in the hallway and strains to hear some movement, but he is greeted with silence. He sighs and moves on the other end of the hallway, where he vaguely remembers passing the kitchen last night.

When he reaches it, he stops at the threshold and surveys it. He doesn't know why, maybe it’s because he feels so strange going over some strangers’ kitchen in search of coffee, but he feels as if he is a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

He spots the coffee pot and, with a resolve he didn't know he had, opens the cupboards in search of coffee and a cup. There is already one at the counter, but he isn’t going to use it.

He finds them, relatively easy and starts making coffee. Soon, the silence is filled by the sounds the coffee machine makes and Castiel finds himself relaxing completely. He rests his weight against the counter and doesn't think of anything for a minute, until he has a fleeting thought about the papers he hasn't graded and panics , but then reason that it’s Saturday, at least he thinks it is, and he has time.

He calms after that for a bit and looks around. What draws his attention is the fridge, where the rest of the kitchen in clean and tidy, the outside of the fridge is full of various magnets and post-its and a sheet of A4 that has, what Castiel guesses a schedule, in the middle of all that mess. He likes it, it makes the kitchen look lively, like somebody or somebodies, there is a roommate if he remembers correctly, actually live here.

He hears footsteps in the hallway and his heart jumps in his chest. He wills himself to stay calm. It’s just Dean. The thought though doesn't help at all and he really should have found a shirt to wear.

He crosses his arms self-consciously and sits on a chair.

He hears a door close and exhales, puts his hands on the table, then on his legs and then crosses them again.

After a beat or two, he uncrosses them and leaves them hanging by his sides. Did he always have that much difficulty in where to put his arms?

But then he hears the door open and footsteps approaching him and he places his hands on the table interlocking his fingers. He can do this.

Except he can’t, because there is Dean, tall and sleepy and soft and beautiful and Castiel can feel his throat closing up. When his eyes fall on Castiel, he looks a little surprised, as if he wasn't expecting him to be here, and grins at him, not looking anymore wake than before, but Castiel certainly is. He heart is drumming in his chest for an entirely different reason than before and he swallows with difficult, trying to collect himself.

Sitting down was a bad idea.

“’Morning” he says finally, his voice rough and he is certain he sounds a bit awed and hates himself for it.

“Morning, thanks for the coffee” Dean replies, not looking phased at all and walks to the coffee machine and puts coffee in the two mugs. He opens a cupboard and takes out a canister that says sugar and places it in front of Castiel along with the cup of coffee and turns around taking a sip from his cup and sighing contently.

Castiel opens the canister and using the spoon that’s already inside puts a spoonful in his cup. He wants to ask if Dean has evaporated milk, but he can’t find the strength to ask, so he settles for just sugar. He raises his head to request a spoon to stir the coffee, but before he even opens his mouth Dean gives him one.  

He smiles up at him and Dean returns it, asking how he wants his eggs and Castiel panics and hopes that it doesn't show in his face. Not that it matters, Dean has already turned around and is roaming the fridge.

“Scrambled” he says at last and is proud of the fact that his voice doesn't waver.

“Good choice” Dean says with a light tone and places a pan on the stove.  

All Castiel can do is sit there, sip his coffee and watch Dean cook. He feels the need to go up to him and kiss his exposed neck. He remembers how he felt last night and grips his cup tighter with both hands, taking a big gulp of coffee.

Dean starts to hum something as he cooks and Castiel feels the tension leave his body gradually. He feels more at ease as he watches him move around the kitchen so naturally. It is strange, but soothing at the same time and Castiel for the first time doesn't feel the need to bolt from something like that.

Dean sets a plate in front of him and then sits opposite of him passing him a fork. They eat and make idle small talk. Castiel learns that Dean lives with his brother Sam, who is studying law and that he is a mechanic and a bartender on the weekends.

 

By the end he has a warm feeling in his chest and smiles softly as he gets dressed in the bedroom. He puts on his pants, without his underwear, instead folding them and placing them in his jackets’ pocket along with his tie. He buttons his shirt and sits on the bed to put on his shoes. After he is done, he picks up his jacket and reaches in the other pocket to take out his phone.

He opens it and sees the number of messages from Gabriel, rolls his eyes and puts the phone in his pocket. He moves to the door, but stops.

His hand twists in his side, he knows he shouldn't. He has hundreds of reasons as to why, but then he listens as Dean moves around in the apartment and closes his eyes tightly. Maybe just this once, its not like Dean _has_ to.

He is just going to leave it on the dresser and if Dean wants to then ok, or maybe he doesn't, maybe he doesn't want to see Castiel again. Maybe-

He doesn't think anymore about it, he turns and hopes there is a pen and something he can write on somewhere in here. And _yes_ , he finds a pen on the bedside table and a notepad on the dresser. He rips a page and writes his number and name quickly, before he loses his nerve, and leaves it on top of the sweatpants on the dresser.

He steps on the hallway and immediately wants to go back inside and take the paper back, but Dean steps out of the kitchen and smiles at him and Castiel is lost. He walks towards him a little uncertain of himself, and Dean just continues to smile at him so casually and seemingly unaffected, like its an everyday occurrence, and Castiel cants help but think how unfair it is. He doesn't have a single clear thought in his head right now.

 

They walk to the door together and Castiel wants something but doesn't know what and then Dean leans down and kisses him and _oh_

 

When Dean calls almost two weeks later on a Friday, asking if he wants to get drinks with him, he knows he should say no, he doesn't do things like that twice with the same person. But then he remembers Deans’ smile and eyes and kisses and the way his skin feels underneath his fingertips and against his better judgement says yes.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [ Come say hi on tumblr :)](http://notsortable.tumblr.com/)


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